A visit from my brother and sister-in-law provided multiple opportunities to visit during meals. Some conversations focused on health needs. Another time we discussed the content of our best-loved books. My favorite meal, though, included hilarious stories of my brother’s adolescent escapades!
I treasure my collection of vintage books. One of these tattered treasures holds an honored spot on my bookshelf—the thirtieth edition of Prayer by Ole Hallesby, a Norwegian theologian.
Sometimes it is the smallest of words, the tiniest breath of a phrase that hits like a truckload of bricks. This particular truth hit me, not like a load of bricks, but like the door in a dark room opening to the bright light of a brilliant day. It was blinding. It was beautiful. It was breathtaking.
In anger, fear, sadness, revenge, joy, happiness, jealousy, and even inappropriate requests David prayed to God.
Let's sneak a peek at his prayer journal.
I’m practicing deep breathing as part of daily relaxation disciplines. In my morning devotions I discovered a reason I actually can relax because it’s all going to come together—all this craziness that surrounds me. I feel relief just imagining this new reality.
The Psalmist writes, Your Word is a lamp unto my feet and a light for my path (Psalms 119:105). If, like myself, you have unexpectedly found yourself on a dark path and wished you had a flashlight, a blazing torch, or that handy-dandy flashlight app on your cell phone. Anything for a light source to keep you from falling would be appreciated.
Falling leaves, cool mornings, the first hint of Autumn and I am warming up apple cider and baking pumpkin bread. Yep, that's me----an Autumn fanatic!!!! Jumping up and down at the mention of needing to put a sweater on to watch the sunset. We Texans, look forward to that first pot of chili and hot cornbread right out of the oven.
I could not believe my eyes when I saw it. It looked like a huge tree had grown up inside an old house and the branches had pushed out through all of the windows.
Historians feel Jesus taught the Sermon on the Mount in the gently sloping hillsides of the northwest corner of the Sea of Galilee. When you go there you can see small towns situated on the tops and sides of the hills. These towns are not hidden even at night you can see them.
Recently, I was in a store when without warning all of the lights went out. For a few seconds, there was complete darkness. I could see nothing, until the store's generators came on, bringing a dim light that barely enabled maneuvering down aisles. I noticed people returning their carts and leaving. Not me! I turned on my phone's flashlight and finished my shopping. B ut I admit , functioning in darkness was not easy.
I’d patched it twice—a dab of spackling and a dollop of paint. I noticed it again while dusting the mantle. That small crack in the wall had returned. As I poked around, I discovered additional soft spots surrounding the crack. This could not be good! Bob-the-handy-man agreed. It could be water damage, dry rot or, even worse, termite damage.
Driving through the neighborhood, My husband and I admired the numerous trees that were changing from green to beautiful yellows, reds and oranges.
Have you ever felt that regardless how much you do to please that significant person, it will never be enough? No matter how hard you try, you’ll never measure up to his expectations? Has the dream of love from your younger years been shattered?
My daughter is grieving over the death of a friend who took her own life. Death is hard, but even more so when despair leads to an end no one expected. My daughter and I talk frequently, and “How are you doing?” is a question I repeatedly ask.
Ever felt like you had experienced banishment to a pagan land? I did when we moved to South Texas. Even though our daughter, son-in-law, and grandson lived in Houston, I did not relish moving there. My husband’s new job required the move so I did not really have a choice.
My husband and I help with baptism on Sunday mornings. As the first service finished up, I carefully counted out the towels for the the second service and stacked them up neatly.
I love to watch a woman in our neighborhood when she goes for an exercise walk. She does not simply walk. I think I would describe it more as a dance. She does it with great enthusiasm and seemingly little care as to what others observing her might think. Her enjoyment of her activity is quite evident and inspiring.
